


iloveyou

by cheshire_lion



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23154577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshire_lion/pseuds/cheshire_lion
Summary: Glimpses into Beau and Yasha’s relationship over the years. Modern au, inspired by the song iloveyou by Between Friends.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76





	iloveyou

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IceImagines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceImagines/gifts).



**17**

Beau plays with the switch of the lighter. The flame dances next to the tip of her thumb, a stark contrast to the cold night air. Tonight is danger, the potential drop from the roof they’re sitting on a good twenty feet, the fire licking at her nail. Beau hasn’t felt this safe in a long time.

She turns to Yasha, who is sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, her cheek resting on them as she watches Beau. The sky behind her is a sea of stars. Yasha’s hair frames her face like a lion’s mane, untamed and royal against the moonlight. “I got it,” Yasha says in an almost-whisper. “Like I promised.” A smile tugs at her lips when their eyes meet, and Beau’s stomach grows warm. The tiles of the roof are cutting into her back, her bare legs freezing. She’s lucky to be here with her.

“Here.” Yasha turns and rummages through her bag, pulling something out. She offers the cigarette to Beau, rolled by hand clumsily. Beau tries not to imagine her fingers around it, delicately maneuvering it until it held together.

“Okay,” Beau says and sits up. “Try it with me?”

Yasha nods.

Beau lights the cigarette carefully. The end glows deep red, its smell rough and violent. She looks into Yasha’s eyes and takes her first drag.

She dissolves into coughs immediately. Her lungs burn. Yasha waits until she can breathe again, then she takes the offered cigarette. Beau watches with teary eyes as her lips wrap around it and she takes a deep drag. She clears her throat after. “I don’t like it,” she says, shaking her head. A small, rough laugh when she looks at Beau and sees her own tears reflected in her eyes. The image of composure dissolves. Beau loves her most in these moments, when she gets to look behind the mask. She likes to imagine most of them are for her.

“Throw it away?” Beau asks. 

Yasha nods. “You do the honors.”

Beau takes the cigarette, their fingers almost touching, and extinguishes it against one of the tiles next to her. 

Yasha lays back on the roof and looks up. Beau watches her features relax, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth every so often. The air smells like spring and cigarette smoke.

“I brought something too, just in case we didn’t like it,” Beau says after a while, when she thinks she can finally bear to disrupt the peaceful sight next to her. She takes the cherry flavored hard candy out of her pocket and dispenses two into her palm. She holds them out to Yasha, who sits up and carefully takes one between her thumb and forefinger. Beau’s palm prickles from the brief contact.

Yasha holds the candy between her teeth first, touching her tongue against it before allowing it to slide into her mouth. “It’s sweet,” she says simply, the sweet clacking against her teeth from the inside, and Beau nods. Her stomach flutters.

She takes the other one and places it on her tongue.

“Are you up here often?” Yasha asks.

“Hmm,” Beau hums around the candy. The flavor is so strong it burns her tongue. “When I can get away with it.”

“Like tonight.”

“Like tonight,” Beau confirms. Her parents are out of town for business.

Yasha turns her head so she’s looking at Beau. “It’s nice.”

“It is,” Beau agrees, and lays down. She scoots closer to Yasha, until she can feel her proximity from the static jumping between their bare arms. The sky above is wide.

“I like being here with you,” Yasha says. 

Her honesty hits Beau in the chest like a freight train. She wills herself to breathe regularly. Their pinkies touch, neither of them looking, waiting for the other to pull back. Then Beau hooks them together. Yasha’s skin is warm and dry. When she turns her head to Beau she’s smiling. A relieved chuckle leaves her. Beau’s heart swells.

**18**

The summer heat is dry on the day they escape the city. Fields of grain stand in gold, the sun relentless. Sweat is running down Beau’s neck, disappearing into her shirt and sliding along her spine.

Yasha’s arms are wrapped around her from behind, her cheek resting against her shoulder. They can’t talk because of the air rushing past their ears, but every so often Beau feels Yasha’s lips press against the slope of her shoulder, reminding her that this is real, that they’re accepted to uni and adults and even when they’re home for visits there’s no one they have to obey anymore.

It doesn’t matter that they only have one bike, or that Beau will be punished. For now they’re here, amongst buzzing insects and the absurd feeling of stillness only heat can bring. Beau’s muscles burn.

Yasha says something.

“I can’t hear you!” Beau calls back, and when she doesn’t get an answer she pulls the brakes. The bike skids to a halt, wholly overstrained by their combined weight.

“I didn’t hear you,” Beau repeats as she pulls her helmet off. Her hair is sticking to her forehead with sweat. “What did you say?”

Yasha buries her face against Beau’s neck, her arms tightening around her. Beau’s hand instinctively shoots up to squeeze her arm.

“Nothing.” Pause. “I love you,” Yasha whispers. The air flickers. A butterfly lands on the handlebars in front of Beau.

She cranes her neck back and strains to reach Yasha’s cheek so she can tilt her head up and kiss her. It’s salty and sweet. Their foreheads rest together after. “I know,” Beau says.

Yasha laughs, silent and familiar.

“I love you too.”

**21**

Yasha’s hair wallows in the water, a moving crown around her head. The white of the tips looks almost green underwater, her skin shining in the same color. She looks up when she’s almost reached the bottom, her grin blurred, and then ascends. She breaks through the surface with a noise that disrupts the stillness Beau had found herself surrounded by, breathing heavy.

Beau can’t help but stare at her. Her shoulders, glistening wet, her eyes focused on Beau’s, lilac and seagreen, her parted lips, rosy-blue from the cold water.

This isn’t the sea Beau likes so much, it’s the swimming pool of some couple that’s on holiday. Leaves of the coming autumn collect around them on the surface, Beau’s toes barely reach the tiled floor. It smells like chlorine and wilting grass and the first breeze of a brewing storm. 

Beau loves it, because she’s here with her.

She pushes off the bottom of the pool as best she can and is by Yasha in a few strokes. Yasha is already waiting for her, her knees slightly bent so she can lift Beau once her legs wrap around her. The slide of their skin is easy, movement under water harder but weightless. Beau revels in it. She doesn’t wait until Yasha has fully hoisted her up, she presses their lips together. Clumsy, breathless, everything.

Yasha tastes like the wine they’d stolen from Beau’s dad, the bottle discarded at the edge of the pool after a few sips. She tastes like the cherry chapstick she wears, and the vanilla flavor Beau had left on her lips hours ago. They move in tandem, practiced, familiar, and Beau’s stomach buzzes with it. She’d never thought knowing someone could feel like this, had never thought it wouldn’t simply get boring.

There’s nothing boring about the way her heart beats out of her chest when Yasha’s strong fingers slide under her thigh, and her other hand to her back. Even their swimsuits feel like too much fabric now. Yasha is warm. Her skin, her breath, her eyes when they break apart to draw breaths. Beau slides her hands into Yasha’s hair. It’s heavy with the water that saturates it, and when Beau closes her fingers for a light tug Yasha gasps against her lips, pulling her closer. Beau loves her, every little reaction she can draw, every secret only she knows, every kiss only they have shared.

She loves her.

**23**

Beau’s mouth feels fuzzy when she wakes. She blinks. The road in front of them is dark with wetness, the stripes in the middle of the road a continuous blur that makes Beau’s head hurt. The window she’s been leaning against is cold, foggy with her breath.

“Sleep well?” Yasha asks.

Beau rubs her eyes and stretches her legs out as best as she can. “Yeah.” She yawns. “You want to switch?”

Yasha looks at her for a split second, her eyes assessing. “I’m good,” she says. “We’re almost there.”

Beau would protest if she wasn’t so tired. She wipes a spot on the window clean with her sleeve. The road runs between two mountains, deep green with forest. She wishes she could open the window at this speed without damaging their ears. It’s stuffy in their car, the smell of sandwiches and cherry cola lingering in the air.

She looks at Yasha. Her jaw has become even more defined in her twenties, her skin bright in the relative darkness around them. She’s beautiful.

“Are you sorry?” Beau asks.

“For what?”

“Leaving everything behind.” She watches for Yasha’s reaction. Their whole life is packed up in the trunk. To her surprise Yasha smiles, her hand blindly reaching for Beau’s. She takes it, and Yasha squeezes.

She looks away from the road, at Beau. “I’m taking everything with me.”


End file.
